One of the nice things about living in the country was watching the progression of seasons. All cities on the other hand, seem to have the same progression; one day it is summer and the next it isn't. Those in between stages seem to happen without much fanfare. St. John's is no different than any other city I have lived in, in this way. We have one tree in our back yard. It is a pin cherry, Prunus pennsylvanica for those of you who care. When we moved here in early August, it had green and lush leaves on the last foot of each branch but the rest of the leaves were skeletonized from an earlier infestation of what the neighbours called 'worms'. Over the next month it recovered and grew some new leaves where the first ones were damaged. September came and went and there was no change to the tree or the distant view of Pippy Park beyond. Thanksgiving came and went too, still no change to the tree, but a little fall colour began to show in the distance. 'Out beyond the overpass' as they call it here. Then about a week ago we finally got a hard frost that affected our neighbourhood. In two days our lush green Pin Cherry went the clear yellow of a Post It note.
St. John's weather so far has been a lot like Vancouver. Grey, overcast, and light rain most days. The difference between here and there is that St John's also gets wind. In Vancouver, wind was such an anomaly that it was remarkable. Really, as in "Wow, it's windy today" if there was more than a hint of gentle breeze in the air. In St. John's it is remarkable when there isn't a wind. So for a day and a half, our Pin Cherry was yellow, and now it is bare from the constant buffet of the gale they call a breeze. Poof, that was fall in St. John's, all 6 days of it.
And here is a little strange but true fact of weather in St, John's: if it is above 3 degrees Celsius then the neighbours are sure to remark "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
If it is sunny but the wind cuts through you like a knife its "Lovely day..."
If it is overcast and raining like a Bible story, but warmer than usual its "Nice day...'
If the wind is still but the fog reaches from the harbour to 'out beyond the overpass' it's "Gorgeous weather...it's enough to kill ya."
These are actually the words that our neighbour used today to describe a dull windy morning with intermittent showers. I can only surmise that the important factor is the temperature, which admittedly at 12 degrees C is higher than seasonal.
The funny thing is that I find myself doing it too.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Just Keep Telling Them You Are From France
I remember once sitting around with some friends and someone made the comment that it felt like we were living in a bad modern day version of La Boheme. They meant we were all youngish, artsy-ish urban dwellers living in grotty apartments who were always just on the edge of something good and then tragedy would strike and a set back would occur. Nobody ever died though.
That was several years ago, and we have all moved on to being not so youngish, possibly more responsible parents and spouses with lifestyles to match. If I had to characterize my life now as a play, it would undoubtedly be a Chekhov play in the way that nothing much happens but all the characters have at least 3 names.
I won't torment you with all the saccharine things Peter and I call each other, but the list of epithets that the dog will respond to is astonishing, and revealing.
His formal title is Jake the Dog. Not Jake Harrington or Jake Little as the vet insists on filing him.
He also responds to Little Dog (a play on words that) and Silly Dog and Bud. Evil Dog makes his tail wag because he knows he's been naughty but he's not going to be punished for it.
His Auntie Susann calls him Stinky. So does his cousin Lester. Occasionally we label him Farty Dog or Poopy Bum.
When he employs his talent for lying down in the most inconvenient place he can find we call him Speed-bump or Dead Dog.
Grumpy Dog and Growley Dog make their appearance more often than I would like, especially at the vet where his file is marked CAUTION! in red ink.
Last Thursday, Jake the Dog had an emergency spleenectomy to remove a large growth which may or may not be a malignant tumor. In light of that fact, we have (at least temporarily) stopped calling him Dead Dog because not even our humour is that bleak.
While we await the test results on his spleen and he recuperates from having his tummy sliced open and his innards stirred around we have given him a new moniker, Mr Conehead.
Just keep telling them you are are from France, Bud.
That was several years ago, and we have all moved on to being not so youngish, possibly more responsible parents and spouses with lifestyles to match. If I had to characterize my life now as a play, it would undoubtedly be a Chekhov play in the way that nothing much happens but all the characters have at least 3 names.
I won't torment you with all the saccharine things Peter and I call each other, but the list of epithets that the dog will respond to is astonishing, and revealing.
His formal title is Jake the Dog. Not Jake Harrington or Jake Little as the vet insists on filing him.
He also responds to Little Dog (a play on words that) and Silly Dog and Bud. Evil Dog makes his tail wag because he knows he's been naughty but he's not going to be punished for it.
His Auntie Susann calls him Stinky. So does his cousin Lester. Occasionally we label him Farty Dog or Poopy Bum.
When he employs his talent for lying down in the most inconvenient place he can find we call him Speed-bump or Dead Dog.
Grumpy Dog and Growley Dog make their appearance more often than I would like, especially at the vet where his file is marked CAUTION! in red ink.
Last Thursday, Jake the Dog had an emergency spleenectomy to remove a large growth which may or may not be a malignant tumor. In light of that fact, we have (at least temporarily) stopped calling him Dead Dog because not even our humour is that bleak.
While we await the test results on his spleen and he recuperates from having his tummy sliced open and his innards stirred around we have given him a new moniker, Mr Conehead.
Just keep telling them you are are from France, Bud.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
How to Cook Cod (or How NOT to Cook Cod)
This week seems to be about cooking adventures. Yesterday, our neighbours gave Peter some fresh cod. This is the last week of the food fishery and someones brother in law had been out to catch some fish. Food fishery is one of those odd terms that seems redundant to me. Like why else would anyone catch fish except for food? But what it means is that non commercial people like someones brother in law can go out and get some cod for personal use. Or to give to the crazy Nova Scotians next door.
According to our neighbours who are gay, but otherwise true Newfoundlanders through and through, there is only one way to cook fresh cod. In fact, they were so adamant about it, they gave me explicit instructions. Twice. You chop up some salt pork fat into little squares and fry them until the fat is all rendered ( this is called scruntcheons). Then you dredge the cod in flour and fry it in the pork fat. You buy the salt pork fat in the grocery store in the meat section, right next to the salt pork riblets and the blood pudding. This is not a joke.
But here is the thing, the day before I had made breaded pork cutlets for dinner and I didn't really want to eat something fried two days in a row. Plus, I don't really like cod that much, and I knew the only way I would enjoy it was to disguise it. So I opened the Joy of Cooking and found a recipe for Fresh Cod a la Portuguese. Now even a Newfoundlander has to admit the Portuguese must know something about cooking cod. Essentially it is cod poached in a tomato and white wine sauce, and it was pretty good. When I told my neighbours what I was doing they were utterly horrified. I think if they had been able to demand I return their cod they would have. (Waste of Cod!) But then again, they are getting used to hearing about the crazy stuff we eat: the other day I made Dave try some halva.
According to our neighbours who are gay, but otherwise true Newfoundlanders through and through, there is only one way to cook fresh cod. In fact, they were so adamant about it, they gave me explicit instructions. Twice. You chop up some salt pork fat into little squares and fry them until the fat is all rendered ( this is called scruntcheons). Then you dredge the cod in flour and fry it in the pork fat. You buy the salt pork fat in the grocery store in the meat section, right next to the salt pork riblets and the blood pudding. This is not a joke.
But here is the thing, the day before I had made breaded pork cutlets for dinner and I didn't really want to eat something fried two days in a row. Plus, I don't really like cod that much, and I knew the only way I would enjoy it was to disguise it. So I opened the Joy of Cooking and found a recipe for Fresh Cod a la Portuguese. Now even a Newfoundlander has to admit the Portuguese must know something about cooking cod. Essentially it is cod poached in a tomato and white wine sauce, and it was pretty good. When I told my neighbours what I was doing they were utterly horrified. I think if they had been able to demand I return their cod they would have. (Waste of Cod!) But then again, they are getting used to hearing about the crazy stuff we eat: the other day I made Dave try some halva.
My $50 Bowl of Soup
Six weeks ago I signed up for a mushroom ID class offered through the City of St John's rec department. I wanted belly dancing but it was full. The mushroom class was every other Tuesday night for 3 sessions at the MUN botanical garden. We had our last session two days ago. I knew nothing about wild mushrooms before, and I still know very little but it was an interesting introduction none the less.
One thing I learned; people who like wild mushrooms really like wild mushrooms. I am only mildly interested myself, and I confess that even though I could now distinguish a King Bolite from a Morel I am no more likely to go foraging in the forest for them than I was before. However, it is nice to know that if I ever find myself wandering through the woods in the fall, post apocalypse, I won't starve like some people.
Another thing I learned was to properly ID a mushroom, you need to do a spore print. Each mushroom has a specific spore print based on its pattern and colour. This is important because there are a lot of mushrooms that look a like and some are good to eat but others will kill you. This means that if I am wandering around in the forest post apocalypse I better remember to bring a field guide. And a microscope. And some paper for the print.
Possibly, it might just be better to have a large supply of those military emergency rations on hand...
At our final class on Tuesday, the instructor brought enough Pine Mushrooms for everyone to be able to take one home. Pine mushrooms, also know as Tricholomata magnivelare, are a highly sought after delicacy. They call them Matsutake in Japan where good specimens will fetch $100 each. One of their distinct identifying features is their smell. We spent a lot of time smelling mushrooms in this class, it was a lot like wine tasting that way; people trying to come up with crazy adjectives that describe a particular mushroom. Some just smelled earthy and mushroomy, but some really have a surprising smell. One smelled like pears. The Matsutake smells just like Cinnamon Red Hots. I picked one that looked like it would make a good spore print, and also had a good strong smell. It wasn't a perfect shape though, so my instructor said it was probably only worth $50.
Behold, the $50 mushroom and its spore print. The instructor told us to make a soup using chicken broth and shave some thin slices of Matsutake into it. I did this today, and I can report that it was pretty good. It was so good in fact that I was going to save half for Peter when he came home from school today, but I ended up eating it all myself instead. His loss. I was surprised it tasted so good, because I used some home made chicken broth I had in the freezer, and I had put quite a lot of savory and parsley into it when I made it, so I really just expected it to taste like chicken broth. But the mushroom gave it a really unusual flavour which I can only describe as like miso, only earthier. The slivers of mushroom too had a texture similar to an oyster mushroom, like a firm tofu. It lost all its cinnamon qualities, but the soup itself had a hint of paprika.
One thing I learned; people who like wild mushrooms really like wild mushrooms. I am only mildly interested myself, and I confess that even though I could now distinguish a King Bolite from a Morel I am no more likely to go foraging in the forest for them than I was before. However, it is nice to know that if I ever find myself wandering through the woods in the fall, post apocalypse, I won't starve like some people.
Another thing I learned was to properly ID a mushroom, you need to do a spore print. Each mushroom has a specific spore print based on its pattern and colour. This is important because there are a lot of mushrooms that look a like and some are good to eat but others will kill you. This means that if I am wandering around in the forest post apocalypse I better remember to bring a field guide. And a microscope. And some paper for the print.
Possibly, it might just be better to have a large supply of those military emergency rations on hand...
At our final class on Tuesday, the instructor brought enough Pine Mushrooms for everyone to be able to take one home. Pine mushrooms, also know as Tricholomata magnivelare, are a highly sought after delicacy. They call them Matsutake in Japan where good specimens will fetch $100 each. One of their distinct identifying features is their smell. We spent a lot of time smelling mushrooms in this class, it was a lot like wine tasting that way; people trying to come up with crazy adjectives that describe a particular mushroom. Some just smelled earthy and mushroomy, but some really have a surprising smell. One smelled like pears. The Matsutake smells just like Cinnamon Red Hots. I picked one that looked like it would make a good spore print, and also had a good strong smell. It wasn't a perfect shape though, so my instructor said it was probably only worth $50.
Behold, the $50 mushroom and its spore print. The instructor told us to make a soup using chicken broth and shave some thin slices of Matsutake into it. I did this today, and I can report that it was pretty good. It was so good in fact that I was going to save half for Peter when he came home from school today, but I ended up eating it all myself instead. His loss. I was surprised it tasted so good, because I used some home made chicken broth I had in the freezer, and I had put quite a lot of savory and parsley into it when I made it, so I really just expected it to taste like chicken broth. But the mushroom gave it a really unusual flavour which I can only describe as like miso, only earthier. The slivers of mushroom too had a texture similar to an oyster mushroom, like a firm tofu. It lost all its cinnamon qualities, but the soup itself had a hint of paprika.
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